16
As we cruised out of the downtown area, the headlights of two motorcycles behind us caught my attention. “Looks like we got a tail.”
Byrd turned in his seat. “Gotta give them points for moxie.”
“Moxie? Geez, what century are you in? Been binge-watching Mary Tyler Moore?”
“I like to read. Gives me a rich vocabulary. So what you gonna do about our tails?”
“Nothing for now. The Ghost isn’t exactly built for speed. They’re probably just keeping an eye on us.”
They followed us out of downtown, never more than a couple of cars behind. I drove into the pass-through of a Days Inn. The bikers pulled into parking spaces nearby facing the motel entrance. Neither got off their motorcycle.
“This isn’t our motel,” Byrd said.
“No, it’s a diversion.” I turned on my walkie-talkie. “Sit tight and
